


safe and sound

by cheshirecatsmile



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Happy Ending, Heterosexual Sex, OFC - Freeform, Oral Sex, Somewhat Outdoor Sex, Tent Sex, bellarke fluff - Freeform, blowjob, kind of, kissing and cuteness, lotta build up, way after 2x08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3100586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirecatsmile/pseuds/cheshirecatsmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Bellamy never came back with you, Jasper. You left together to go hunting. Where the hell is he?”</p><p>Clarke's mind is addled with worry. God, she knew this would happen. With the bloody state Jasper came back in, who knows how hurt Bellamy is.</p><p>“I don't know. We split up, three grounders attacked me, I managed to get away and stumbled back to camp. Bellamy's probably dead by now.”</p><p>Clarke inhales sharply, and grabs Jasper uninjured arm. “Jasper.”</p><p>He rolls his eyes at her. “Come on Clarke. I'm joking. It's Bellamy. I'm sure he's fine.”</p><p>Clarke stands up, and picks up a gun. “I'm going to find him.”</p><p>“Clarke, I'm sure he's fine!” Jasper protests, starting to sit up, but she's having none of it.</p><p>“I don't care. Look at what the grounders did to you. I'm not going to stand by and let that happen to Bellamy. I'm going to find him.”</p><p>--</p><p>When Bellamy goes missing, Clarke sneaks out to find him, and maybe realises a few things along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	safe and sound

“Clarke?”

Clarke feels a hand on her shoulder and looks up from where she's re-bandaging an arrow wound on someone's upper thigh. In the background, there's static from where Raven is fiddling with the radio transmitter.

The hand belongs to Bellamy. “Hi,” She says. “What's up?”

He glances up at Raven and lowers his voice. “I'm going hunting, with Jasper. You wanna come?”

“Hunting? Are you crazy? With Lexa's Grounders on the loose?” Clarke finishes up the bandage, ties the knot and stands up to face him. “We have nuts and berries and—”

“Give me a break. The whole camp is starving. If we get attacked, nobody will even have the energy to fight. I'm just gonna spear us some meat. We'll be back before nightfall.”

Clarke can't deny the way her stomach aches for some real food. It rumbles and weakens her case. “My mom will never let you out.”

“Chancellor Griffin won't know. I'm sneaking out.”

Clarke raises an eyebrow and folds her arms. “Jasper? Sneaking? In the same sentence? Are you sure?”

He laughs a little, his eyes crinkling. Bellamy never laughs, and she feels a strange satisfaction at being the reason for one of his rare smiles. “Fair point. That's why you need to come with me.”

There's the instinctive spark in Clarke's stomach that tells her to pick up a knife and follow Bellamy, have a little adventure. Things around camp have been so boring lately. She’s one of the only people with any sort of medical expertise, so while she’d rather be patrolling the grounds or out looking for guards who go missing, she’s instead recruited to the infirmary. Clarke itches to be out there doing something. And she'd be in good company. I mean, it's Bellamy. Bellamy's a perfectly adequate hunting partner. Oh, and Jasper. Let's not forget about Jasper.

But then she remembers how she's supposed to be covering her mom's medical shift tonight, since she has chancellor duties to carry out. She’d definitely be missed were she to sneak out.

“Sorry, Bellamy,” She says. “I can't, not tonight.”

He cocks an eyebrow and rests a hand on his gun holster. “Guess the Princess isn't so brave after all.”

Clarke shoves him, fighting a smile. “Shut up. Just go, bring me back a fox or something.”

Bellamy bows elaborately, exaggerating the move. Clarke rolls her eyes. “Whatever Her Majesty desires. Your wish is my command.”

Clarke draws a pocket knife out of her sleeve, raising it towards him in jest. He backs away, arms held up in surrender.

“A fox it is, my lady.”

He turns around and leaves, pulling his shirt over his hip to conceal his gun. It’s prohibited for the juveniles to possess a weapon unless they leave camp or the camp is under attack. That’s why Clarke has to hide her knife in her sleeve. Like she’s going to be unarmed in this place. Almost everyone has a concealed weapon.  
As Bellamy exits the ship, shouting for Jasper, Clarke wonders when being around Bellamy Blake made her smile so much.

 

\----

 

“Wick,” Clarke approaches the mechanic, who is sitting down with Raven, deeply engrossed in the radio. He looks up at her expectantly. “Can you turn off the electrical fence for a minute?”

“Again?” Wick asks. “Who's sneaking out this time?”

“Bellamy and Jasper. They're going to go hunting.”

“Well then, I'm all in favour.” Wick reaches for a lever lodged into the back wall. “They're killing us with this nuts and berries shit. We'll starve to death before the grounders get us.”

He pulls down the lever and glances back up at Clarke. “It's off.”

“Great. Thanks.”  
“I’m expecting a sizable portion of whatever they bring back,” Wick says, which makes Raven laugh.  
“You’ll have to bring it up with Bellamy.” Clarke bids them goodbye. She jogs back outside to the somewhat inconspicuous spot behind the Ark where Bellamy and Jasper are. There’s only a couple of guards around the area, but they seem for the most part oblivious, passing a bottle of liquor between them. “Okay. Fence is off.” She informs, touching the fence gingerly to make sure. 

“Right, see you later.” Bellamy makes to duck under the wiring, but Clarke stops him, grabbing his arm. 

“Wait. You have knives?”

“Yes.”

“Guns?”

“Yes.”

“Remember, don't waste ammo on animals. The guns are only in case of grounder attack. Do you have your tents in case of acid fog?”

“ _Yes,_ princess. We got it. Remind me again who the camp leader is here?”

Clarke steps closer to Bellamy. “We were both leaders, Bellamy.”

He smirks. “Whatever you say, princess.”

Then he ducks under the wire and jogs off before he's noticed by a guard, motioning for Jasper to follow him. Clarke gives him a fleeting hug. “Be safe. I'll kill you if you don't come home. And stay together. Now go before Wick turns the fence back on.”

Jasper ducks under the fence and runs clumsily after Bellamy. Clarke watches as they disappear into the forest, the darkness swallowing them up. She feels the pocket knife dig into her arm, and wonders if she made the right choice by staying behind.

With nothing better to do, she returns to Wick and Raven to inform them that they can turn the fence back on before somebody notices. Raven pulls the lever back up, and Clarke hears a quiet sizzle confirming that the fence is indeed working again.

“I hope they come back,” He remarks, as he twists a screw into his construction.

“They will. It's Bellamy,” Raven replies, sounding unworried. “Anyway, Clarke. Abby stopped by, she wants you to check over a patient in medical. You better go.”

“All right,” Clarke says. “Let me know if they come back?”

“You'll probably be the first to know,” Raven mutters, smirking. Wick snorts. 

Clarke raises a eyebrow. “Sorry?”

“Nothing, just.” She pauses before continuing. “I mean, when Bellamy comes back, you'll be the first person he goes to.”

Something leaps in Clarke’s stomach, but she forces it away before it can ignite. “Don't be ridiculous, he'll see Octavia first.”

“Whatever you say,” Raven grins, and she and Wick share a knowing look. “Now get to medical and stop worrying about Bellamy.”

“I'm not worried about Bellamy!” She insists, and she strides out of the room before another comment can be made.

 

\---

 

“Jasper,” Bellamy hisses. “Would you shut the fuck up?”

“What? It's a relevant concern! What if when I'm shooting a gun, the bullet ricochets off a tree and comes back to hit me? You know my aim sucks!”

“Are you being funny? Because we've already agreed that doesn't work for you?” Bellamy closes his eyes. He is _this_ close to shooting him. That is if he doesn't shoot himself first. 

“It's a scary thought! There's nothing funny about it!” Jasper says defensively, oblivious to Bellamy’s aggravated tone.

“You won't need to use a gun if you shut up so we don't alert the grounders.” Bellamy reminds himself to look up, remembering that the grounders use the trees. It's been over two hours and there's not been an animal in sight, save for one badger that Jasper scared off by yelling for Bellamy. “Only you would be legitimately concerned about shooting yourself by means of a tree’s reflective skills.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t get it.”  
“That’s because you only have about eight functioning brain cells.”

“You know, your sister likes the grounders,” Jasper remarks amiably, the insult bouncing off of him.

“I'm well aware,” Bellamy says through gritted teeth. “I've learnt to accept her Lincoln.”

“Funny, considering you've chained him up twice.”

Bellamy's hand tightens around his knife. _Should have brought Clarke,_ He thinks, and immediately shakes his head to rid himself of the thought.  
Recently Clarke’s been appearing in his thoughts far too often and she really needs to get the fuck out. Because Bellamy does _not_ like her. He doesn’t.

“Bellamy,” Jasper says suddenly.

“Quiet!” He orders, freezing as he hears the bushes rustle. Animal or Grounder? He listens carefully, slowly drawing his gun from its holster.

“Bellamy!” Jasper shouts, and Bellamy whirls around to face what is most definitely a Grounder. A Grounder wielding a menacing sword. The Grounder growls, baring his teeth and leaps for Bellamy’s throat.

Jasper makes a run for it, while Bellamy shoves his knife into the attacker’s stomach, which gives Bellamy the time he needs to pull the trigger on his rifle, shooting more times than necessary before he's sure the Grounder's dead. 

Jasper's out of sight by the time he stumbles after him. Hopefully he’s fast enough to reach safe territory. Five more Grounders leap out of the trees, roaring battle cries. Bellamy curses and decides he can’t take out all of them and live, so he sprints, pulling out his smaller gun to shoot behind him as he runs. He hears at least two thuds of Grounders hitting the floor, so you know. That’s always good.

“Jasper!” He bellows, sending a gun shot up into the air, to alert his friend of his whereabouts. “Jasper!”

Bellamy looks behind him, to find he's momentarily lost the Grounders. He's close to the underground bunker, he remembers. Perfect hideout. Who knows whether the Grounders have alerted others. It was he who attacked, he who killed them. Jasper isn’t a target. Jasper can wait.

He reaches the bunker and climbs down into it, securing the lid on top. He collapses onto the floor, panting hard. The Grounders, as far as he knows, don't know that this place exists, so he should be safe. He can only hope that Jasper's found a place to hide too.

 

\----

 

When Clarke wakes up the next day, her neck is stiff and her back aches. She'd fallen asleep upright on a chair beside a patient's bed. The sun is just breaking through the clouds and according to her father’s watch, it’s just past 4AM. She’s one of very few people who are awake, judging by the eerie silence. 

She’s just pulling on her jacket, when Bellamy’s words come echoing back to her.

_We’ll be back by nightfall._

_Nightfall._

“Shit,” Clarke spits out, lacing up her boots. She rushes outside, muttering angrily under her breath as she does so. “Fuck you, Bellamy. You just _had_ to go hunting! We’ll be fine on nuts and berries, I said. But no, you just had to get some fucking meat in your system. If you’re dead, I’ll fucking kill you, I swear to—”

“Are you all right, Clarke?” A gentle voice startles her. It belongs to Sinclair, who she recognises as one of her mom’s close friends. 

“Yes, I’m, um. I’m fine.”

Should she tell him that Bellamy and Jasper have gone missing? A search party would be sent out, but they’d be punished once they returned. Bellamy would kill her. 

Sinclair offers her his metal tin of water. She accepts it gratefully and takes a small sip. “Your mind seems busy.”

“It is,” Clarke agrees. “I couldn’t sleep.” 

“Well. I think Raven Reyes is up in the mechanic room. Or you’re welcome to help me here. I’m monitoring—”

“I’ll join Raven, if that’s okay.”

Without waiting for a response, she goes to find Raven, chewing on her lip worriedly. 

_We’ll be back by nightfall._

She can hear the telltale scrapes of metal from outside the door, confirming Raven is up and working. She barges in without knocking. 

“Clarke? Wha—”

“Bellamy and Jasper aren’t back yet.”

“No?” Raven frowns, but otherwise unperturbed. “They spent a night out there? That’s not good.”

“I know. God, I told him not to go!” She runs a hand through her hair.

“I’m sure they’re fine. They’re well able to look after themselves, Clarke.” 

Clarke’s frustrated at Raven’s nonchalant attitude at their friends’ absence. Sure, Bellamy’s a fighter and Jasper’s a good shot but it’s the two of them versus however many ruthless Grounders. 

“I’m going after them,” Clarke decides. Raven shuffles over to her as best she can with her messed up leg and grabs her arm, pulling her down onto a chair. 

“You are not! Give it at least a day. The last thing we need is the Chancellor's daughter going missing as well. Bellamy and Jasper may not be noticed but you disappearing will be. It's more trouble than it's worth,” Raven reasons, her voice imploring. 

“My friends are worth it,” Clarke mutters, but she concedes, sighing. “If they're not back by dusk, I'm going after them.” 

“Duly noted.” Raven kicks her feet up on a chair, seemingly satisfied. “So. Do you have to play nurse today or can you stay here and keep me company?”

“I guess I can stay here.” Clarke says, relaxing into her seat. “What are you working on? Can I help?” 

“Whoa, stay back Princess,” She smirks, holding up a hand. “This is my area of expertise.”

“Don't call me that,” Clarke says absently, not thinking. Raven looks up.

“What; Princess? Why not? Bellamy does.” 

“That's different.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she wants to snatch them back and swallow them. 

Raven smirks. She's been doing far too much of that lately. “I see.” 

A few minutes of silence pass, Raven's clever hands working and Clarke trying not to let herself worry too much. Then all peace is rudely disrupted by the the door bursting open. Octavia storms through, wild eyed.

“Did my brother come back last night?”

Finally! Someone who shares her concern. Clarke stands up.

“No. He said he'd be back by nightfall. I wanted to go looking for them but Raven said I should wait—”

“There _is_ no waiting!” Octavia exclaims. “Every minute we wait, Bellamy's in danger. I'm going to find him, and Clarke, you can join me but even if you don't, I'm still going. He's my _brother._ He's my family.” 

“You're right. Octavia, find a gun. I'll get my pack and we're going to—” 

Clarke's order is interrupted by a series of shouts and yells. There's a commotion outside and someone bellows, clear as day, “Open the gate!”

“Bellamy and Jasper?” Octavia wonders. 

“Let's hope so.”

The two of them, closely followed by Raven, hurry outside to find out the cause of the racket. From the door of the Ark, Clarke can see Jasper being dragged through the gate. 

“Jasper!” Clarke gasps, jogging over to where her friend was being helped through the gate by two guards, his clothes soaked in blood. His face is marred with cuts and he seems to be unarmed. “Jasper, what happened?” 

“Clarke, we need to get him to medical.” Abby's at her shoulder, peering at Jasper's injuries. She's more concerned with treating his wounds rather than the reason he was outside of camp. What all the other guards buzzing with interrogating Jasper, Clarke appreciates it. 

“Wait,” Octavia says. “Where's Bellamy?” 

“You can talk to him after he's been patched up,” Abby insists, “Major, take him to medical please.”

“Yes, Chancellor.” 

Octavia turns to Clarke with wide eyes. They both have the same thought. 

“Jasper's back,” Octavia points out unnecessarily, “So where the hell is Bellamy?” 

 

\---

 

It takes Raven, Clarke, Monty and Monroe to persuade Octavia not to go thundering into the woods to find her brother. She's almost hysterical with worry, and understandably so. Jasper and Bellamy left together. There had to have been a reason they split up. 

“Octavia,” Raven snaps, grabbing her shoulders. “You can't go now. Security is going to be really high. You need a plan.” 

“At least wait until Jasper's patched up,” Clarke reasons. “He might know where Bellamy is.” 

“If the Grounders have him—” 

“Octavia. We'll find him. Together.” Clarke squeezes her shoulder and then turns and heads for the medical area, so she can assist in Jasper's patch up. By the time she gets there, he's unconscious, head lolling. 

“Clarke, hand me some alcohol so I can sterilise this.” Her mom orders calmly. As she disinfects the wound, she speaks to Clarke. “This is an arrow wound. The cuts on his face? Swords or knives. It was a Grounder attack.” 

Clarke squeezes her eyes shut. Grounder attack. Bellamy. Bellamy's out there alone with savage Grounders.

“Will he be okay?”

“The arrow wound is deep, but in a safe place, nowhere near any major organs. He should be fine.” 

“Let me know the moment he wakes up,” Clarke says, turning to leave. 

“Wait,” Abby stops her. “Clarke. Why did Jasper leave camp?” 

Clarke knows if she tells the truth, she won't be able to sneak out. Her mom will have too close an eye on her. 

“I don't know,” She lies smoothly. 

“Who was with him?” Abby doesn't turn around from the table; she bandages Jasper up and sets to work cleaning the cuts on his face. 

“Bellamy Blake,” She replies. Her stomach twists as she says his name. 

“I'll send out a search party. We will get him back, Clarke. Don't worry.” Abby faces her daughter, her eyes soft and gentle. “I promise we'll find him.”

She pours some water on her hands to rinse off the blood. “I have to go calm the chaos. Would you stay with him for me?” 

Clarke nods in agreement, seating herself on a chair by the table. When her mother leaves, she hoists Jasper's arm over her neck and supports his body, transferring him over to the bed so he'd be more comfortable. The movement wakes him up and he drifts into consciousness, blinking up at Clarke, confused. 

“Clarke?”

“Jasper. Are you okay? What happened?” 

He groans, hand going to clutch his side, where the wound is. “God, that hurts.” She waits for him to find a position that takes pressure off the wound. When he does, he sighs in relief. 

“Jasper, what happened?” She repeats, urgently. There's only so much time Octavia can stay pacified. 

“Grounder attack. One of those bastards shot me with an arrow. Another one pulled out a sword and started slashing me. I shot two of them and injured one. Then I stumbled back to camp.” 

“Bellamy never came back with you, Jasper. You left together to go hunting. Where the hell is he?”

Clarke's mind is addled with worry. God, she knew this would happen. With the bloody state Jasper came back in, who knows how hurt Bellamy is.

“I don't know. We split up, three grounders attacked me, I managed to get away and stumbled back to camp. Bellamy's probably dead by now.”

Clarke inhales sharply, and grabs Jasper uninjured arm. “Jasper.”

He rolls his eyes at her. “Come on Clarke. I'm joking. It's Bellamy. I'm sure he's fine.”

Clarke stands up, and picks up a gun. “I'm going to find him.”

“Clarke, I'm sure he's fine!” Jasper protests, starting to sit up, but she's having none of it.

“I don't care. Look at what the grounders did to you. I'm not going to stand by and let that happen to Bellamy. I'm going to find him.” 

Clarke takes her pack which contains a bottle of water, some rations, three knives, a compass, bullets and a tent for protection against acid fog. 

Octavia comes in, her eyes lighting up once she sees Clarke gearing up to go, her pack slung over her shoulder and a gun in her hand. 

“Jasper,” She says, “You okay?”

“Awesome,” Jasper tells her. “Would you tell Clarke not to be stupid and to not go tearing into the woods after Bellamy?”

“No can do. Because I'm going too.” Octavia grabs her own pack and hides it under her jacket, out of sight. “Can you tell me where you last saw Bell?” 

“We split up when we were about half a mile away from the creek.” 

“That's close to the underground bunker,” Clarke says. “He might have taken cover there. Let's go.” 

They leave Jasper protesting loudly in the medical room, Octavia guiding Clarke to the same spot the two boys left from yesterday. “Raven's going to turn off the fence. We have about five seconds before she turns it back on because the guards are on super high alert. We head for that spot there—” She points out a spot in the woods. “And we run for it.” 

Clarke picks up a stick and throws it at the fence. The wiring sizzles. 

“Come on Raven,” She mumbles. 

She picks up a different stick and chucks it at the fence again. This time, it falls to the ground unharmed. “Go!” Clarke whispers. She fits herself through the wiring and takes off, not waiting for Octavia. Her feet thud on the ground as she runs, tripping over herself and stumbling a few times. Her heart is pounding out of her chest, adrenaline spurring her on. It's the biggest relief to reach the woods and she sprints into them, deep enough that the trees hide her from view. Moments later, Octavia sprints past her, using a tree to help stop her momentum. 

“I cannot believe we made it,” She pants, bending over to rest her hands on her knees. “Those guards are half asleep.” 

Clarke leans against the trunk of a tree, trying to regain her breath. Once she has, though, she straightens up and starts to walk approximately south-west. 

“Come on,” She says to Octavia, “let's find your brother.” 

 

\---

 

Bellamy wakes up with absolutely no approximation of what time it is or whether it's day or night. The sofa he slept in had a rogue spring that's obviously been digging into his back for hours, judging by the ache he feels. 

He throws some water from the bottle in his pack on his face to wake himself up. The Grounders should definitely be off his trail by now, he'd slept for hours. It's time to brave the woods.

He slips his knife into his pocket in case he happens across an animal, but it's no longer a priority. Getting home is and—Jasper. Shit.

There's a chance he made it back, but it's slim. He's going to have to go wandering around the woods looking for him. 

“Brilliant,” Bellamy mutters, picking up his gun. “Jesus, Jasper, why'd you have to take off like that?” 

He climbs up the ladder, and raises the lid. He peers out, scanning the area. Once he's confident the coast is clear, he hoists himself out of the bunker and readjusts the lid onto the entrance. His gun at the ready, and absolutely no idea where he's going, he heads towards the creek. 

 

\----

 

“Are you in love with Bellamy?” 

Clarke chokes on air at the question Octavia just posed. She stares at the brunette, shocked. “Excuse me?”

“Do you love my brother?” 

“Where did you get that idea?” Clarke queries, still somewhat dumbfounded. The question tripped her up, and the answer should have been an instant ‘no’, but it's not. Her mind whirs, questioning the ‘no’ that was once there. Saying ‘no’ doesn't feel right anymore. It feels like she's lying. 

“I see the way you look at him,” She tells her, “And the way he looks at you. Like he's only ever happy when you're around. I know Bellamy really well, and he's really fond of you, Clarke. And if it was you missing in the woods, I guarantee you he would be out here too, looking for you.” Octavia pauses for breath. “And like, you're the only one he listened to, back when the 100 were the only ones on Earth. He was a jerk, Mr Whatever The Hell We Want, and you turned him into a leader. And he talks about you, Clarke, he doesn't even realise it. Bellamy's never liked anyone past sexual attraction, never. It's nice to see him happy.”

Clarke's voice is lost in her throat, and she has to dig it out again to speak. “What are you saying?” 

“I'm saying that if you and Bellamy were to get together, I'd be totally for that.” Octavia gives a small smile. “But if you break his heart, blood is thicker than water.” 

Clarke's stomach is doing cartwheels. Her palms are sweaty and her heart is beating so loud she's certain Octavia can hear. She just wants to change the subject before her heart leaps out of her chest, because as if the thought of Bellamy wasn't enough, everything Octavia just said gave Clarke butterflies. 

She couldn't like Bellamy. Could she? 

“We've been walking for over an hour,” Clarke comments quickly, “Where the hell is he?” 

“It's Bellamy. He's everywhere until you need him and then he is nowhere,” Octavia says, taking the subject change. “We've got to find him, Clarke. He's—what was that?” 

Clarke can hear footsteps, too many and too heavy to belong to Bellamy. “Don't stop to question it,” She tells her, “Just run!” 

They start running away from the footsteps and subsequently skewing off course. They're now heading in the opposite direction from the creek. 

Octavia pulls Clarke behind a group of bushes, crouching down. They're both breathing heavily. Footsteps keep approaching them, and Clarke can hear the Grounders speaking in their native tongue. 

Eventually the Grounders get close enough and stop about ten metres away from the pair. There's three of them, and they start talking in urgent voices. 

“I think I know what they're saying,” Octavia breathes. “Lincoln taught me some of the language. They're saying something about ‘two boys’ and ‘attacked’ and they mention a guy called Tomac. The two boys have got to be Bellamy and Jasper.”

Octavia listens again, her face screwing up as she struggles to translate. “God. I think they're saying something about finding them, which means Bellamy got away. But they're looking for him, so we have to hurry.” 

Clarke opens her mouth to respond, but freezes as the Grounders approach their hiding spot. “They're coming this way. We'll have a better chance of sneaking away unnoticed if we split up.”

“Clarke—” 

“If you can't find Bellamy by dusk, return to the Ark. Octavia, promise me.” 

She nods reluctantly and gives Clarke a fleeting hug. “May we meet again.” 

Clarke closes her eyes. “May we meet again.” 

Then they part, Octavia heading quietly to the left and Clarke to the right, both of them trying to be stealthy. She keeps close to the trees until she's sure she's far away enough from the Grounders to run. Clarke can only pray Octavia made it away safely—

Thundering footsteps approach her, along with a battle cry. Clarke starts running, risking a look behind her. A giant Grounder armed with a sword is pursuing her. Obviously she wasn't quiet enough. 

All of a sudden, she brings herself to an abrupt halt and whirls around, shooting the gun a few times. For the most part, her aim is horrendous and she misses. One bullet finds its target, and hits the Grounder's leg. He howls in pain, but keeps coming for Clarke. 

Clarke pulls the trigger, to no avail. She's out of ammo, and her other gun is nestled in her pack. With no other option, she draws the knife from her sleeve. 

The Grounder waves the sword at her, slashing her face and her shoulder. The knife acts as a shield, stopping the sword from colliding with her skin. At first opportunity, she makes a stab at his stomach. The knife sinks in his skin and he hisses, recoiling, which gives Clarke enough time to retrieve the other gun from her pack and put a bullet through the Grounder's heart. 

He falls to the ground, limp. She pulls her knife out from his dead body, shaking. She will never get used to killing, even if it's in combat. 

Clarke glances around to take in her bearings. If she keeps heading right, she should be able to double back around and reach the creek. It'll take longer than the original route, but she can get there before dusk, definitely. 

“Goddamnit, Bellamy,” She mumbles to herself, “I just wanna find you. Where the fuck are you?” 

She keeps walking, the journey tenser and lonelier without Octavia's company. She's on edge, looking in all directions for Grounders.

Her mind drifts to Bellamy once or twice, or thirty times. She keeps replaying the laugh she'd drawn out of him yesterday. How his smile made her smile.

_I just want to see you smile again._

This time, Clarke just lets the thoughts come at their own free will. They scare her, and make her stomach twist, but they also make her heart speed up. They make her shiver. In a good way. 

It's kind of like Octavia just gave her and Bellamy her blessing—which of course she didn't, because there _is_ no her and Bellamy. 

Because Bellamy didn't like her that way. She thinks. 

She doesn't think...that it would be so bad...if he did. Like her that way.

She's walked for half an hour when Clarke takes a water break and sits down beside a large tree. She sips her water and chews on some of the food she brought with her. She gives herself three minutes of rest before inevitably, it was time to get back on track.

She's just about to stand up when she hears footsteps. They're light and fast, so it's unlikely to be male Grounders—Lexa? Indra, maybe? Maybe even Octavia? 

“Clarke?”

Clarke scrambles to her feet, her heart pounding. She _knows_ that voice. 

“Bellamy?” She calls out. 

Bellamy breaches her line of vision, stepping out from a cluster of trees up ahead. Her stomach leaps, but a wide smile stretches across her lips. She's never been more glad to see anyone in her life. 

Clarke breaks into a run, abandoning her pack at the tree. Bellamy drops his gun on the ground and outstretches his arms, grinning. Clarke crashes into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. Bellamy, breathing hard, wraps one arm around her waist, the other hand clutching her hair gently. 

“Guess I was wrong,” Bellamy says, a smirk in his voice. “You are a brave princess.” 

“You're okay,” Clarke mumbles. 

“I'm okay,” Bellamy replies. “I'm okay now.” 

Clarke lets go before she wants to. She feels Bellamy's arms tighten around her for a second before releasing. He's staring at her with something of a fond expression.

“You shouldn't have come, Clarke,” He tells her. “I was on my way back home.”

“Jasper came back completely torn up. Like we were going to sit looking pretty while you were out there missing.”

“Jasper made it back?” Bellamy looks immensely relieved, but also kind of pissed off. “I've been looking for him for hours! Jesus, you're telling me I could have gone straight back to camp?”

“Come on, we better go back. Octavia will—”

“You brought Octavia?” Bellamy hissed, “Where the hell is she? Does she have a gun?”

“No, all she has to defend herself is a pair of knitting needles and her sense of morality—What the hell do you think I am, stupid? Of course she's armed!” Clarke is slightly miffed at the lack of faith her former co-leader has in her. It's really quite shocking. “We had to  
split up. She promised she'd return by nightfall if she didn't find you.”

“This is Octavia, since when does she follow orders? We have to find her!” Bellamy picks his gun up and starts moving, but Clarke grabs his arm. 

“Bellamy, stop. We can't stay here any longer, the Grounders are after you! Octavia said—”

Bellamy grits his teeth. “She's my sister. She's all I've got.” 

“God, you two just keep saying that! She's _not_ all you've got! You both have us, your friends!” Clarke cried, frustrated, “She has me. You have me. You're not alone.” 

Bellamy's breath hitches. He looks down at Clarke with an indescribable expression etched upon his face, but then it goes, and he's back in business. “Get your pack. Let's go. Where did you last see my sister?”

“Bellamy—” 

Whatever she'd been about to say is cut off by the deafening sound of a fog horn. The pair look at each other, frantic. “Acid fog!” Bellamy shouts. “Come on!” 

Clarke runs back to the tree to fetch her pack and her gun. In the distance, she can see the orangey mist swirling, descending on them ominously. 

“Get your tent!” Bellamy yells, fumbling with the zip on his pack. Clarke grabs him by the elbow and tugs him in the opposite direction. 

“I've got a better idea. Come with me.” 

He doesn't ask questions, just runs after Clarke, racing away from the poisonous fog, leaping over tree roots and rogue fallen branches. Clarke uses memory to guide her to a certain hill, where there's still a body-sized passage through which one could crawl and get to—

“The drop ship.” Bellamy realises. “We're back at camp.”

“Thank you, Sherlock. Now go!” Clarke urges, practically shoving him through the passage. She crawls in after him, and they both head for the drop ship, clambering aboard, the fog close behind them. 

“Close the door!” He yells, “hurry!” 

She runs over to the somewhat stiff-from-disuse lever, forcing it upwards. The door to the drop ship creaks closed slowly, clamping shut just in time to shield them from the acid fog outside. 

Bellamy sinks down beside the wall, his head in his hands. At least six minutes pass before he speaks. “Octavia's out there.” 

Clarke touches his shoulder gently. “She has her tent.”

“What if—what if she doesn't? What if she had to abandon it for some reason? What if the Grounders tied her to a tree? What if—”

“She's clever, Bellamy. She's all right,” Clarke promises, although she has the same worries. 

“This was a good idea,” He tells her. “As much as I hate to admit it.”

“Oh come on! Stop pretending like you hate me,” Clarke teases. 

“Don't hate you, princess. Not anymore, anyway,” Bellamy grins down at her. They're sitting far closer than they normally would, so close that their knees touch. Clarke's not sure how to feel about that. 

“Do you think my mom's sent out a search party?” 

Bellamy snorts, seemingly amused by the idea. “Not bloody likely.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It _means,_ Clarke, that your mother didn't sanction a mission to Mount Weather for weeks. It means she, like every other adult, is only concerned about one thing. Saving her own skin.” 

“That's not true!” She snaps defensively. “Mom's the best Chancellor we've ever had.” 

“Best of a really bad bunch,” He shoots back. 

“Jesus, Bellamy!” Clarke gets to her feet and walks away from him, fingers pressed to her temples. “You are insufferable.”

“Me?” Bellamy follows her, grabbing her wrist, forcing her to face him. “Well, answer me this, Princess. I've been wandering around the forest for hours and not one person from the Ark has come looking for me. And I've been in plain sight. They're not looking for us. They're deciding how to punish us once we get back.” 

Clarke opens her mouth to retort but she has nothing to say. 

“Cat got your tongue, Princess?” He smirks down at her, annoying and infuriating and so, so attractive. 

The idea seems to cross both their minds simultaneously but Bellamy reacts first, grabbing Clarke around the waist and pulling her to him. It all happens so fast, and then Bellamy's lips are crashing onto hers. It's rough and toothy but fucking amazing. Clarke didn't know a kiss could be so good. 

Granted she has like, no experience but. 

When they break apart for air, she leans his forehead against his, breathing heavily. 

“Wanted to do that for ages,” Bellamy admits, giving her a small smile. He kisses her forehead before returning to sit by the wall they'd been sitting by before...that happened. After she collects her wits, she joins him. 

“Um. Ditto.” There was a time when Clarke has considered herself eloquent. Right now is not that time. 

“Why'd you come looking for me?” Bellamy lets his head fall back against the wall, closing his eyes, looking like the living embodiment of exhaustion. But he's also smiling and that's nice. “I mean, I know why Octavia did. But why you? Your mom will kill you.” 

“I was worried about you,” Clarke says honestly, “You're my friend, Bellamy.” 

There's a long silence—too long—before he speaks up again. His voice is barely a whisper. “ _Just_ your friend?”

“What?” 

“I'm just saying...if you possibly maybe wanted to be more than friends? That would be...completely agreeable.”

So it wasn't _just_ a kiss. It was more. 

Clarke can't stop the beatific smile that sneaks onto her face. Bellamy notices it and the corners his lips turn upwards, his eyes fond. 

She's never seen him look like that, peaceful and happy. And he's looking at _her_ like that. 

“You like me?” Clarke mumbles, her fingers taking on a mind of their own and lacing themselves through Bellamy's. 

“A bit,” Bellamy says, “A lot, maybe. I don't know.” 

“I kind of like you, too,” Clarke tells him. “I think. I get jealous when you're with other girls. Is that weird?”

“Really weird,” He teases, but his hand squeezes hers. “Can we sleep and talk about this later?”

“Fantastic idea,” Clarke agrees. 

“Use my shoulder.” 

He gently brings her head down to rest on her shoulder. It's surprisingly comfortable there, although there's a bone sticking into her cheek. Clarke drifts off, and for once she's not sleeping with one eye open. 

 

\----

 

Abby doesn't notice her daughter's absence for hours. 

In her defence, she's had meetings nearly all day, she's had to grapple with Jaha about corporal punishment for Jasper Jordan and Bellamy Blake for when and if he returns, and she's got Major Byrne breathing down her neck about upping security methods. 

She only noticed Clarke's gone when she goes to the medical room, and Jasper Jordan is sitting with Raven. When she hadn't seen her daughter anywhere today, she'd assumed she was here, with Jasper. Apparently not. 

“Where's Clarke?” She asks. 

Jasper starts to speak, but Raven interrupts swiftly. “I'm sure she's around here somewhere. Why?” 

“I haven't seen her all day.” 

Raven shrugs. “I don't know. She's probably just worrying about Bellamy, like the rest of us.” 

Abby places her hands on her hips. “Is there something going on between Clarke and Bellamy Blake? She seemed sick with worry when she realised he'd gone missing.” 

“They're close friends.” 

“Is that it?” Abby persists. 

Raven nods absently. “Yes, but really, it's not any of your business.” 

“I'm her _mother,”_ Abby snips, “Of course I have a right to know.” 

The dark haired girl just shrugs again. “Clarke's fine, I'm sure.” There's a short pause before she asks, “Have you sent out a search for Bellamy?” 

Abby is silent for long enough for that to be her answer. She feels guilty at the look of disgust on Raven's face. 

“God, Abby,” is all she says before turning back to face Jasper and fiddle with the loose ends of his bandage. The conversation is over. 

Abby sighs and heads outside to find Clarke. 

 

\---

 

“Clarke. Clarke, love.” 

A hand is shaking her, rattling her awake. She opens her eyes slowly, blinking to rid her vision of the blurriness. 

Waking up to Bellamy Blake is a nice way to wake up. 

“We should go, the fog's cleared.” 

“Okay. Just let me wake up.” Clarke stretches her arms over her head, which she soon realises is a mistake. Bellamy attacks her sides with tickles, making her shriek and desperately scramble away from him. 

“Bellamy! Bellamy, stop!” She yells, her voice tainted with laughter as she squirms. 

“I'm just waking you up,” Bellamy grins, ceasing his ministrations. “Did it work?”

“Definitely.” 

Clarke flattens herself against the wall and pulls down the lever to open the drop ship door. “Stay away,” She orders playfully, pointing at him. 

The door is just beginning to lower when they both hear loud pattering on the drop ship roof. 

“Is that rain?” Bellamy wonder.

“No, God is crying,” Clarke drawls back.

“Can't I just ask a simple question?” 

“Do you ask any other kind?” 

The door lowers and light breaks into the dark room. Bellamy and Clarke turn around to adjust their packs and reload their guns, when they hear the sound of footsteps coming into the drop ship. 

Clarke whirls around, gun at the ready, her finger on the trigger. 

“Whoa,” Octavia says, her hands up in surrender. “Calm your tits.” 

“Octavia,” Bellamy breathes, clearly relieved. The siblings embrace, hugging each other tightly. Clarke smiles at the pair. 

The girl is drenched, her hair plastered to her cheeks. Her clothes are soaked, and she's clearly been walking around in the rain for a while.

“What are you doing here?” He asks his sister. “What happened?”

“I heard the horn for acid fog, so I used my tent. When it was gone, I ran into Lincoln. He said he'd seen you two, heading for here. So here I am.”

“How bad is the rain?” Clarke asks, peering out the door. They never experienced rain in space, only learnt about it. It kept the trees alive which in turn gave the people oxygen, so in Clarke's eyes, rain was a good thing. 

Octavia holds up a strand of her wet hair. “Bad. We should just go home.” 

The three of them venture outside to brave the weather. The good news is, most of the grounders have opted to seek shelter as opposed to hunting Bellamy. 

Clarke holds her tent over her head to shield herself from the rain, but it's fruitless and she gets wet anyway. They're nearly home, ten minutes from camp, when Bellamy stops in his tracks.

“Bell—” Octavia starts, but he shushes her. He points to his left, where there's two foxes roaming around looking for food.

“Bellamy, don't worry about it, let's just get back—” Clarke says, but he's already whipped out his knife.

“Promised you a fox, didn't I, Princess?” 

He smirks at her before plunging the knife into the fox, effectively killing it. It frightens the other fox away, but Octavia shoots it before it can get too far and it falls to the ground. 

“Can't show our faces without a prize,” She reasons, picking up the foxes and handing one to Bellamy to carry. 

“We'll be arrested before we even get through the gate.” 

“That was when Kane was Chancellor. My mom won't do that.”

“Corporal punishment, then,” Bellamy says cheerfully. “Flogging? Lop off a finger or two?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Clarke says, but she smiles. 

 

\---

 

“Abby.” Sinclair nudges her, “Your daughter's back.”

“Oh!” She exclaims, so relieved she could faint. When she'd done a circumnavigation of camp and not found a trace of Clarke, she'd gotten it out of Jasper Jordan where she was. 

She'd arranged a search party that were just about to leave when Clarke showed up.

She hurries over to the gate where not only Clarke, but Bellamy and Octavia Blake too. They're soaked, but seemingly unharmed, with all their blood safely inside their body and most of their limbs intact.

“Clarke!” She hugs her daughter tightly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Thank God! What were you thinking?” 

“Sorry, Mom,” she says, “I had to find him.” 

“Go to medical so you can be checked over. I'll take this,” She reaches out for the dead foxes, but the Blake siblings step back. 

“They're ours,” The girl says firmly, her tone haughty. “We'll decide who gets them.” 

Abby sighs, just about at the end of her rope, but hurdles them into medical. 

“Bellamy Blake, when you're done, I'd like you to come see me.”

“Why?” His sister demands, trying to get up from her table. The medic pushes her back down. 

“Relax, O,” Bellamy tells her, while a medic dabs antiseptic on a cut on his forehead. “I'm done now. I'll go with you.” 

Abby leads him down the corridor to the empty monitoring room. She closes the door and folds her arms as she stares him down.

“You gonna punish me?” Bellamy Blake asks. “Or stick me in captivity?” He runs a hand through bedraggled hair. “Listen, it was my idea. Please don't punish Octavia and Clarke, Chancellor.”

“I'm not,” Abby says, thin lipped. “You're an adrenaline seeking, reckless boy, but I won't punish you. I don't even care that you went. I'm mad you made my daughter go after you.” 

“That was Clarke's decision,” Bellamy says, “With all due respect, Chancellor, but you have to stop treating her like the young, naive girl you knew on the Ark. She's changed. She was our leader and she's a great one. The 100 still listen to her. She's grown up, Mrs Griffin, and you have to accept that.” 

Abby grits her teeth. “I was the one who gave you a gun and let you out, Bellamy Blake. I knew there was a reason. You've got some nerve.” She uncrosses her arms. “I can't let people think they can break the rules and get away with it. You're on cleaning duty, like the janitor you used to be.” 

“Okay,” Bellamy says, shrugging. He could take that, easy. 

Abby eyes the fox in his hands. “You can cook the two foxes and share the meat amongst your friends. You caught them, after all.” 

“Thanks.” 

Abby waves at the door. “You're free to go.”

 

\--- 

 

“Hey.” 

Clarke looks up to where Bellamy is walking towards them, the other fox in tow. They've already started a fire to cook Octavia's fox, their stomachs rumbling at the prospect of a good meal. 

He plops down beside her, tossing his fox to Monty to skin. “Hi,” Clarke says, discretely wrapping an arm around his waist. He does the same, bringing her closer. “What did my mom want?” 

“Nothing, she just gave me permission to distribute the fox meat as we wish and put me on cleaning duty for the next week.” 

“Good, I was worried she was locking you up or something.”

“You always worry about me, Princess. Loosen up a little.” He squeezes her playfully. 

Without thinking, she reaches up to kiss him. He kisses back without hesitation, sliding his tongue into her mouth. They lose track of how long they sit there making out, until a wolf whistle interrupts them.

“Oh, don't mind us, lovebirds!” Octavia calls out, “But your dinner's ready.” 

They scoot apart a little to eat dinner that's dished out on plates that Jasper stole from the Ark. Pleased groans fill the air; it's the best meal they've had in weeks. Their stomachs are pleasantly full when they're done with the meat accompanied by rice. 

Clarke gets up to go talk to her mother, but Bellamy catches her around the waist, pulling her back down on his lap with a squeal.

“Hey. Share a tent with me tonight? I've got two pillows.” 

Clarke smiles at him. “Yeah, all right.” 

And if she stays awake late chatting in hushed voices in Bellamy's tent that night, and falls asleep cuddled up to Bellamy's chest, nobody has to know.

 

\---

 

6 Months Later 

 

“Guess who?”

Clarke smiles, prying his hands off her eyes. “Some random idiot.”

“Wrong!” Bellamy attacks her sides, tickling her in the spots she hates most. 

“Bellamy, stop!” 

Clarke shrieks as he runs after her, catching her and and grabbing her around the waist. They tumble down onto the floor. 

“You're the worst.” 

“I never got that kiss you promised me.” 

Clarke straddles his torso. He grins up cheekily at her, his hair all mussed up. She presses a kiss to his lips before getting off him. 

“There. Happy?” She asks. 

“Mm, very.”

“Was looking all over for you,” Bellamy sits beside her on the ground, and pulls something out of his pocket. He clenches it in his fist for a moment before slowly pressing it into Clarke's palm. 

“It's for you.” 

Clarke looks down at her hand. It's a silver chain with a wonky metal star dangling from it.

“Raven helped me make it,” Bellamy tells her. “It's stupid, but...” 

“No, babe, I love it,” Clarke says, squeezing Bellamy's hand. “Thanks. Can you put it on me?” 

She holds up her hair while Bellamy clips the necklace into place. It rests on her chest, cold against her skin. 

“I haven't got anything for you.” 

“You suck,” Bellamy teases.

“But you like me anyway,” Clarke shoots back, jabbing him in the stomach. 

Bellamy ruffles her hair. “No, Princess, I love you. Now come on, dinner's up.” 

Clarke's breath hitches. “What did you say just say?” 

“I said dinner's up.” He tugs at her hand, not meeting her eyes. His strength forces her to scramble to her feet. 

“No, before that,” Clarke persists. 

“I said ‘no Princess.’” 

Bellamy's a bright shade of pink, and he focuses firmly on the horizon line in the distance. 

“Yes, but after that.”

“I don't recall, now come on and get into the dining hall or we'll never get a seat.” 

“Okay,” Clarke concedes, letting her boyfriend pull her toward the dining hall where the rest of the people were. Nutrition at camp had improved greatly; they'd send out hunting teams every day to bring back meat, and they'd developed a way to grow their own vegetables. 

Once they're inside, they line up with their plates and they're dished out rabbit meat with some reddish berry sauce and diced carrots. 

Their friends are at a table in the far corner, but it looks to be full. 

“Do you wanna eat outside?” Bellamy leans down to whisper in her ear. She agrees, and follows him outside to their shared tent—technically Bellamy's, but Clarke can't remember the last night she didn't spend here. They duck through the entrance and sit down on some bundled up jackets to eat. 

Clarke sometimes wonders how she landed Bellamy Blake as her boyfriend when so many others were in love with him. Granted, she's not sure she understands anybody who's not at least a little in love with Bellamy, but. She just counts herself lucky, is all.

Clarke reaches out to fork some extra carrots from Bellamy's plate to her own. He doesn't resist, just smiles and taps his fork against hers and lets her steal his carrots.

“Just so you know,” Clarke says, with a mouthful of food muffling her words, “Love you too.” 

He freezes with his fork halfway to his lips. “Oh. You do?” 

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” She grins. 

“Nope, that's not a problem at all.”

Bellamy sets down his half empty plate and then takes Clarke's and stacks it on top of his.

“I'm not done!” She protests, but he's pulling her onto his lap and kissing her hard, his tongue sliding against hers. She whimpers, grabbing fistfuls of his hair as she subconsciously grinds down on his crotch. 

He grunts. “Clarke, you've gotta stop doing that if you're not gonna finish the job.” 

Clarke kisses his lips once more and pulls back. “What if I wanna finish the job?” 

Bellamy swallows. “You know I've not got the self control to tell you that ‘it'd be better if we waited until you're ready’?” 

“Good, I don't wanna wait.” 

Bellamy pushes her down to lie on the floor. He spreads her legs and lays between them, kissing her as he grinds his clothed dick against her crotch. 

“Bellamy,” She huffs out as he starts pulling up her top. “Bellamy, wait, we have to get the plates out of the way.”

“Jesus, Clarke,” He says with a laugh, “You're too much.” 

Topless, she grabs the two plates and shoves them outside, zipping up the tent entrance. As she does so, Bellamy unhooks her bra and slips it off her. 

“Shit,” He groans, pushing her back down and latching his mouth to her breast. Clarke squeaks in surprise, whimpering as Bellamy's tongue circles her nipple, his hand fondling her other breast. 

“Your tits are great,” Bellamy comments, biting one gently before using his tongue on the other nipple. Clarke can feel herself getting wet, and she slides a hand into her panties to palm over her clit. 

“Shit, you're too hot,” He groans, “Bet you're so wet for me. Bet your pussy's aching for me to fuck it.” He moves lower, kissing over her stomach and pulling down her trousers and panties quickly, like ripping off a bandage, because if his experience with virgins tells him anything, getting undressed is the worst part for them. 

As if she somehow read his mind, she pipes up, “I'm not a virgin, Bell.” 

He pauses. “You're not?” After she shakes her head, he asks, “With who?” 

“Some guy called Levi on the Ark, before I was locked up.” 

“Was he any good?” 

Clarke shrugs as best she can in the position she's in, but she ends up with a horrific double chin. “I don't have anything to compare it to.” 

“Well, you will now,” Bellamy says, “I'll the best fuck you've ever had.” 

Clarke goes to make a sarcastic comment but Bellamy licks over her clit and effectively shuts her up. Or rather, draws a moan out of her. She spreads her legs and lets her head fall back. Bellamy uses his tongue on her clit and it just _feels so fucking good_ she could almost cry. He sucks her clit into his mouth. Clarke feels her pussy throb with want, slick with wetness. 

“Bell—can I—your fingers?”

“You want my fingers, love?” Bellamy grins up at her. Without warning, he pushes his middle finger into her wet pussy, massaging her walls. 

“Shit, Bellamy!” She manages to say. She's soaking wet, so it's not long before Bellamy adds another finger, stretching her pussy out. Clarke's writing and panting and whimpering, enjoying herself an embarrassing amount.

“You like that?” Bellamy asks, crooking his fingers and aiming it towards her g-spot. He finds it and presses the pads of his fingers against the rough skin, making Clarke's head fall back, letting out tiny moans and gasps. “You like my fingers in your pussy, Clarke?” 

When she doesn't reply, he licks over her clit, hard. “Answer me.” 

“ _Fuck,_ yes, feels so good. Love it.”

He licks her clit again, and starts fucking his fingers in and out. “Bellamy,” Clarke moans, “Make me come.” 

Clarke feels when she's on the edge and she shrieks, the pleasure to her clit intensifying. Clarke comes with a cry that shudders into a sob, Bellamy continuing his motions as if she'd never come. He feels Clarke’s pussy spasm, making his cock twitch in interest as he imagines feeling her pussy around it. That would come soon enough. 

Clarke lies in the aftermath of her orgasm, her chest rising and fall as she tries to catch her breath. Once she does, though, she's unzipping Bellamy's trouser and shoving them down his legs. His dick is hard, and beads of precome rest at the tip. 

“Clarke—” 

She wraps her mouth around the head of his dick, then slowly works down, her tongue making patterns as she goes. His dick is heavy on her tongue, and she takes him down as far as she can, using her hand to stimulate what she can't reach. She pulls back up for air, and tongues at his slit. 

She looks up, his lips wrapped around his dick. Bellamy's face is an expression of pure bliss, but when he opens his eyes to be met with the sight of Clarke looking up at him with his dick in her mouth— 

“Shit! Clarke, get off! Get off!” 

She backs away, looking somewhat alarmed. 

“Sorry, babe. But you looked so hot, I was gonna come and I wanna fuck you first.”

He pushes her down and hovers over her, giving her a kiss before using his dick to rub over her clit and arouse her. It works, and she's whimpering within seconds. 

Her pussy is soaking wet, so when Bellamy slides in, she takes him easily. She gasps when he's buried to the hilt. He gives her all of three seconds to adjust—“all okay?”—then he starts moving.

“You like it?” He asks, bending over her to suck her nipple into his mouth. “Does it feel good?” 

“Amazing,” She moans, reaching down to rub her clit. He bats her hand away and uses two fingers to masturbate her. She gasps at the friction, and her stamina is embarrassingly weak but she finds herself already close to the edge.

“Clarke, I'm gonna come,” Bellamy grunts, and then she's coming, her pussy spasming around his dick. Bellamy curses and pulls out, pumping himself and coming with loud moans all over Clarke's stomach. 

He flops down beside her, completely spent and somehow manages to drag the blanket over them. Clarke cuddles into him, burying her face in his chest. 

“Thanks,” She mumbles.

“Thank _you,_ love.” 

He kisses her forehead, tightens his holds around her and then he goes to sleep, with a pathetically happy smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was my first bellarke, so if it sucked, many apologies. leave comments and kudos etc. if you so wish. thank you for reading this bag of crap it was a bit cringe ngl
> 
> lots of love xx 
> 
> PS. Hi Faye.


End file.
